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Dad started to complain when an orderly brought in a wheelchair to take him downstairs but calmed down when he explained it was hospital policy for all patients to be wheeled out when being discharged. The orderly waited with Dad while I went to get the truck. Dad had a little trouble getting up into the truck but refused my help so I just stood there holding the door while he struggled. By the time I went back around the truck and got behind the wheel Dad was rifling through the glove compartment. He pulled out a pack of Winston's and pushed in the cigarette lighter.

"You've got to be kidding, Dad. Didn't you listen to the doctor at all? You have to quit smoking."

"I know smoking's no good for me, son. Every cigarette I've had for fifty-five years has been bad for me. But it's too late to do any good by quitting now. My heart and lungs just aren't getting the job done any more and quitting isn't going to change that or extend my life one extra day. Maybe if I'd quit ten or twenty years ago it would have made a difference but all it would do now is make me thisav even crankier than I am and I don't think either one of us wants that.

I knew he had a point but I refused to give in to him. He lit the cigarette, took a deep drag and began to cough.